I emerged from the pub around midnight forty five
Half full or half empty was debatable.
The familiar walk was appealing
Semi suburban right and rural left.
Many times I'd pondered the contrast,
My autumn mind allowed ideas to fall to receptors
Provoking electrochemical images
Which oft were forgotten.
Not this time.
Black satanic curves of rock and heather
Eternally adhered to an impossible sky.
Low amber flecks tracing existence
Yet dwarfed against the majesty.
Three times I stopped and stared.
The third time I climbed the wall,
Ethereally removed from the silent path
I lay and infused the social drug.
How lucky was I to be surrounded
By icons of wild liberation.
Eventually and arguing internally
I tore myself from my soporific repose.
Intoxicated more by my vista
Than my degenerate imbibings,
The remaining perambulation was virtually transfixed
By tattooed cranial images
Which on this occasion
I eagerly surrendered
To my awaiting pages.
Esra Sloblock
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/going-home-2/
